


Every Time

by Harky21



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Doctor Who Fusion, Angst with a Happy Ending, Being Lost, Hand Jobs, Hittite Empire, Hurt/Comfort, London, Loneliness, M/M, New York City, One Shot, Oral Sex, Period-Typical Racism, Survivor Guilt, Time Travel, World War II, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:54:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26670985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harky21/pseuds/Harky21
Summary: Yuuri is near certain he's cursed to float from place to place, destined to never know where or when he's going next. But one thing he knows for certain: everywhere he goes, a pair of familiar blue eyes follow
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri & Victor Nikiforov, Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Comments: 3
Kudos: 65





	Every Time

**Author's Note:**

> Written originally for the "Time" edition of the YoI LitMag. I've edited it a bit. Hope you enjoy!

Yuuri tastes the soot in the air as soon as he phases, head still spinning from the jump. He’s lucky that his Time Alteration Jumper let him land on his feet, for once, instead of knocking him to the ground. 

Regaining his footing, Yuuri stands, taking in his surroundings. Brick buildings loom high above him and smokestacks peek above even those, spewing blackness into the air. Judging by the mix of cars and horse drawn carriages, Yuuri has to guess he is in late Victorian London. 

Studying the street a bit longer, he carefully examines the bowler and top hats ambling by topping men dressed in long coats carrying canes. Looking down, Yuuri sighs. His TAJ didn’t change his outfit this time, which means he’ll have to suffer through finding a tailor shop. Luckily, he just needs a coat and cane to blend in enough. His current suit should do.

Making his way out into the street, he only notices a few glances; nothing near what he received in Zhou China when he turned up in a t-shirt and shorts. That was a nightmare worse than showing up to school in his underwear.

Heading down the cobblestoned streets, Yuuri takes in every sign and shop name. Over the years he’s become adept at learning the layout of cities quickly, memorizing signs and street corners, key roads quick as lightning. It was necessary. The less he stands out the better; the more geography he knows from a certain time period, the more easily he can lie about where he’s from.

Yuuri is no longer sure how old he is anymore. It’s hard to keep track of your age when you don’t stay in the same time or place for long. Sometimes he isn’t even sure where he started. Time melds together in strange ways he no longer knows how to navigate, and he doesn’t have anyone to help him learn it anymore.

He’s tired of moving and living in strange parts of the world that were once fascinating, but now are monotonous. He’s bored of the time periods he finds himself in, but never able to settle down into one. He needs something he doesn’t know the name of, a yearning tucked away so deeply in his heart it aches. 

Maybe that’s why he travels, going from place to place, time to time, never stopping or slowing down. He’s searching for what will settle the ache in his heart and the sadness that’s nestled deep in his soul. 

But he knows he’ll never find it. Yuuri erased any chance there was to have a home.

If any of the time ships made it through the war, Yuuri could have just stayed on one for eternity, hiding in the threads of time as they wove together, never having a purposeful way to go. But no ships survived, and here Yuuri is, stuck with a malfunctioning watch version of a TAJ throwing him to the wind.

Finally spotting a tailor shop, Yuuri turns toward it. Just as he takes a step he runs into another man, causing him to lose his balance and begin to fall to the muck in the road. 

“Woah there!”

Strong hands grab the back of his jacket, hauling him back upright. 

“Are you okay?”

Yuuri takes a minute to check over himself before glancing up at the man who saved him having to buy a full new suit. 

“Yes, I’m… fine.”

Brilliant blue eyes catch him and he forgets how to speak. The man before him is tall and poised, short hair the color of starlight, dressed in a dark grey suit, black overcoat accentuating his thin waist. 

“Good, very good. Then I will be on my way. Have a good day.”

Yuuri watches the man retreat, unable to say anything in reply. 

* * *

Hands skim the inside of his thighs, desire pulsing through him again. He doesn’t do this, ever. It’s against his carefully constructed rules so he _doesn’t_ upset the time-space continuum. But something was stronger than his will to not destroy the fabric of time tonight. 

He’s in New York City, somewhere around 1960. The US is in the midst of the British invasion and spirits are running high. While wandering through the nightlife, a seemingly familiar pair of blue eyes ensnared him and before Yuuri knew, he was back in the man’s hotel room, tugging and yanking at the unwanted barrier of clothing between them.

Kisses litter his chest, moving down closer to the edge of his underwear, dick already pulsing in anticipation. 

Glancing down, the cerulean blue eyes that initially drew him in are hidden by a fringe of silver. But even the sight of the top of the man's head, muscles under broad shoulders rippling with every movement, can only be described as gorgeous.

Yuuri tries to pull his concentration back in; what was the man’s name? Vik — 

Before he completes the thought, a hot, wet heat envelopes him and he gasps, hands twisting in the blankets.

Reveling in the sensations, Yuuri stops thinking. It’s been so long since he’s felt anything, he needs this. Breaking the rules, knowing he still exists, that he is still capable of feeling. 

And this man is just _so_ good. Right in a way Yuuri has never felt before. It makes him want to stay in this time, in this place. 

He comes and tears start to swell in his eyes after the white rush of heat. 

Yuuri’s blue-eyed lover peers at him, eyes hazy from lust, hair tousled from Yuuri’s hands pulling it, but they clear upon catching site of Yuuri’s tears. He doesn’t speak, only crawls up the bed, lays next to Yuuri and pulls him into his chest. The tenderness of the gesture makes Yuuri shake more and he holds the man next to him for dear life. Maybe that’s what he’s searching for … A life line.

When Yuuri wakes in the morning, the blue-eyed stranger is no longer there. Just breakfast and a rose. His heart aches all over again.

* * *

The ancient world — well, really the world before any kind of international travel — holds more challenges for Yuuri than usual. He tends to stand out if he’s not in East Asia, and where he finds himself standing … is definitely not that part of that world.

People hurry past and carts roll by. Yuuri keeps his head down, but even then passersby catch sight of him and pause in confusion to stare before shaking their heads and moving on. His time jump still making him a touch woozy, he heads down the street, trying to keep to the sides, away from the eyes he’s sure are following him.

Not knowing which direction to take down the curving maze of streets that cut through mud-brick housing. Yuuri just keeps going. Eventually, he’ll find a tavern or some old woman who will take pity on him and give him supper. It’s all happened before. He just has to make it through till the next time jump.

As he wanders about, going deeper into the city, he realizes that fewer people are staring. Surveying where he is again, Yuuri spots the palace sitting above the city and he knows exactly where he is. The capital of the Hittite Empire, Hattusa. 

History lessons and place recognition became Yuuri’s nightly routine. He wasn’t a fan of not knowing where, or what time, he was in. Even when Yuuri did set a course, his TAJ could be rather temperamental, dropping him randomly along the way.

“You’re not from around here, are you?”

Yuuri’s stomach tightens at the soft melodic voice. He takes a deep breath, running through his story of where he’s from for this time period.

“No, not real — ” he begins to reply, turning. The words die on his tongue.

It’s … _him_. The silver-haired man from New York.

“You … How?” Yuuri clamps his mouth shut. It couldn’t be him that’s not possible.

“Hi, Yuuri.”

“You know my name.”

“I could never forget your name, Yuuri. You’re the only other one of our kind I’ve come across in decades.”

Mouth gaping, trying to form words that aren’t coming out, Yuuri’s head spins.

Another Traveler … One of his people. 

“At least that’s what I assume since we’ve met in both London and New York …”

The man trails off, expression turning hesitant.

Yuuri tries to form words but still, none come out. Mind racing, he remembers. The street in London, the time in New York he wanted to remain in forever. All for … _Viktor_. How could this be possible?

“But, the time wipe … I was — how did you ...?” Yuuri steps back, foot catching in a crack, he falls against a building wall.

Viktor smiles sadly. 

“I was the one who was ordered to do it. I thought for the longest time I was the only one left, drifting through time alone. But then I found you, Yuuri. ”

Yuuri squeezes his eyes closed, head spinning and trying to process what he’s being told. This man pulled the trigger, killed every other Traveler still alive, even after all the death and destruction.

Tears come to his eyes. Yuuri knows that Viktor did what had to be done. Time would have unraveled if the war had continued. It had already started by the end of it: dinosaurs in the deserts of the wild west, ninjas in ancient Rome. For the sake of the world, it had to be set straight. Yuuri’s family had died in the initial carnage of the war. So many of his friends, too. By the end, there were so few Travelers left, but so many were still hell-bent on tearing the other side apart till there was nothing left. Yuuri himself had wondered if he could make it all just disappear. 

And then it had.

“But how …” he chokes out. “How did I survive? I thought for so long I was somehow the one who — who — ”

A sob escapes and he looks back up to Viktor. Understanding dawns and Viktor swoops down to Yuuri, helping him up and pulling him away from the prying eyes of the street, into an alley. He studies Yuuri a moment, wiping at his tears with his thumbs.

“No, Yuuri,” he whispers, his own voice strained. “It wasn’t you. It wasn’t you. Never think it was you. It’s my burden to bear, not yours.”

Viktor’s strong arms wrap around his shoulders, pulling Yuuri in, and he clings to Viktor. Just this small affection is overwhelming. Part of Yuuri’s mind wanders, wondering if he could possibly have this, a companion, for more than just a day.

As soon as the thought crosses his mind his TAJ is triggered and whirls into overdrive. The tingle of the time stream envelopes him, pulling Yuuri out of Viktor’s arms.

 _No, no, no not now!_ Yuuri frantically grabs at Viktor, but his hands waft through, the phasing already taking hold. Viktor frowns in worry, fear seeping into his expression.

“It’s my TA — ”

He can’t finish the sentence, Hattusa and Viktor are gone.

* * *

“Get in line, you filthy Jap!” 

Yuuri is shoved forward, falling to the ground with a wet slap, water and mud drenching his too-thin clothes. He barely hears the words the soldier shouts as he’s kicked in the back to get up. How did he get here? He was with Viktor, and now? He’s a prisoner, somewhere in Manchuria during World War II.

War reveals the worst of human nature; it throws Yuuri straight back to the Travelers’ final war. All the horrors he witnessed flash through his mind while fresh ones play out before him.

The acrid smell of blood and smoke coating everything makes his stomach turn, but he rises to his feet, trudging along the road, sure that at the end is death. Yuuri’s mouth twitches slightly in amusement as he trudges along. Right after he finds the only other living Traveler, he’s being marched to his death all because of a faulty TAJ watch.

At the end of the walk, amazingly enough, isn’t death. It’s a cell. Yuuri’s translation program is popping in and out, but from what he can tell they think he’s a spy. The word torture accompanies it and Yuuri’s mind has a field day with that one. His breath starts coming more rapidly and the world goes in and out of focus, spinning. A rough shove and Yuuri loses his balance, sprawling across the floor of the cell as the door clanks shut behind him. Not bothering to get up, Yuuri curls more tightly into a ball, trying to stay present. He needs to stay present. If he doesn’t, he’s gone.

Taking a deep breath Yuuri tries to ground himself again, opening his eyes and studying the cell he was thrown in. It’s dark, there’s no window, not even a sleeping pallet. He rubs his wrist where he wears his TAJ, taking it off to examine it and try entering a new date. It usually works when he’s in this kind of trouble, but today it just makes some dying whirring noises. His chest tightens, head spins. There is no way out. 

After his third day in the cell, not a single human aside from the guard that gives him water appearing, Yuuri begins to wonder if this is his torture, to slowly die of starvation while isolated from the world. It wouldn’t surprise him if spies didn’t get trials and were just offed eventually. The only seed of hope he has left is that Viktor somehow finds him, but it’s a shot in the dark. Viktor has no way to track where or when Yuuri is and even if he did it might not be completely accurate. 

That’s all he wants now, though. Viktor.

A loud thump startles Yuuri from his thoughts. Banging follows with clashes of metal and a gunshot. Yuuri uses the last of his energy to pull himself into a ball in the back corner, as the shouts of men grow louder. There’s a banging at the door he knows is at the end of the hall, a large crack sounds and footsteps run down the hall.

“Viktor.”

It’s a hushed whisper, an answered prayer.

Is Viktor truly here or is it another dream?

He’s standing in front of Yuuri’s cell, out of breath and disheveled but, god, Viktor is still gorgeous. 

“Yuuri,” Viktor replies, desperation in his voice. Viktor fumbles with the keyring in his hands, trying different ones frantically trying to unlock the door. Finally, the lock clicks and he swings the door open, racing to Yuuri.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god. Did they hurt you? Are you okay? Yuuri, I …”

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri whispers out, throat tightening. “I’m sorry.”

Viktor wraps Yuuri in his arms. “No, it’s okay. But Yura, we have to get moving. I need to get you back to the ship, so you can heal and eat.”

Standing in itself is a monumental effort, even after just three days. But maybe it was longer? How would Yuuri know? Viktor half carries him up the stairs, past bodies littering the hallway.

“Don’t worry, they’re just knocked out,” Viktor mutters as if to tell himself and not Yuuri. 

Soon they’re in a corner and Viktor opens a cloaked door and Yuuri’s in a TAJ ship, a place so familiar and foreign to him now, a place he thought he’d never step foot in again. He laughs, half-delirious as Viktor pulls him toward the med bay, setting him down on a bed right when they walk in. The worry in Viktor’s face is apparent as he leans over, mouth moving, but Yuuri isn't able to make out what he’s saying. He’s safe now, and as that fact sinks into his bones everything fades to black.

Consciousness returns slowly. First, it’s just the awareness of someone else near him, bustling about. Then his body, heavy, tired, and sore. Yuuri doesn’t open his eyes just yet, worried that this is a dream, he’s still stuck in a cell and has reached a breaking point where the concrete cold floor feels like a fluffy bed. A soft caress of his cheek makes him crack his eyes open.

“Viktor.”

Yuuri’s voice is hoarse and sore. He tries to move and finds that a deep ache has set in his body.

“Shh, Yuuri, you don’t need to move. It’s okay, you’re safe.”

The bed dips as Viktor sits and Yuuri stares up at him bleary-eyed. 

“How did you find me?” 

Viktor takes Yuuri’s hand, his left, the one he wears his TAJ on, but the familiar weight of it isn’t there. 

“Your TAJ was malfunctioning and I was able to calibrate my ship’s radars to pick it up. It took longer than expected … ” Viktor trails off. “I’m sorry I didn’t get to you sooner, Yuuri.”

“I thought I was going to die,” Yuuri admits, squeezing Viktor’s hand. “If I’m in a really bad spot it usually phases me somewhere else like it’s supposed to, but it wasn’t working.”

“What happened to it Yuuri? And why didn’t you take it off?”

“I had a bad fall in Machu Picchu,” Yuuri laughs before his face falls, turning away. “And … I couldn’t. It was the last piece of our culture, our people, I had left. I thought maybe — I thought it was punishment at first. Surviving when no one else did, moving from time to time, place to place, a cursed wanderer, but then it was my only connection to everyone I loved.”

Tears drop on the blanket covering Yuuri’s lap.

Viktor’s hand shifts and cups his face, tears streaking his own as well. Yuuri reaches up, wiping Viktor’s tear away, and Viktor gives him a watery smile. 

“I’m so happy you’re here, Yuuri. I thought I was alone too. And then I thought I lost you, just when I had found you again.”

Yuuri’s chest tightens with warmth, understanding, pain, and something else growing, wiggling its way into his heart and sprouting … love. He leans forward to Viktor, hesitantly placing a kiss on his lips. It’s familiar, warm, soothing. Yuuri understands why he never wanted to leave New York the second time he encountered Viktor. It had nothing to do with wanting to stay in the city, and everything to do with wanting to stay with this man.

Viktor kisses back, soft exploration soon turning to passionate need. Yuuri clings to Viktor’s shoulders, holding onto him, never wanting the moment to end. Viktor leans into Yuuri, pushing him gently back down into the bed, chest warm and strong, whispering words of praise in his ears.

Yuuri pushes up into Viktor, but the tangle of blankets restricts him. Kicking at them, he finally gets the pesky fabric away, but there’s still too much between him and Viktor. There’s always been too much between him and Viktor. Too much space, too much time. Yuuri kisses him harder, drawing Viktor’s strong, lean body closer, but there’s still too much between them. Viktor must agree because he pulls his shirt off before going back to kissing Yuuri, hands roaming reverently, tickling his stomach as they pour heat into him. 

Yuuri gasps, dick hardening as Viktor’s thumb brushes against his nipple, arching into Viktor, his heartbeat quickening, his breathing gentle, and his warmth all-encompassing.

It’s not long before his hands follow the soft fuzz leading down to the edge of Viktor’s pants. Fingers skim along the band and Viktor gasps into Yuuri’s mouth.

“Please,” he whispers, and Yuuri unbuttons the pants, slipping his hand around Viktor’s cock.

Viktor’s gasp is musical and sends a new pulse of desire through Yuuri, erasing all aches he felt before. The only thing on his mind is to get closer to Viktor. His hips rut up, the friction through fabric not enough. He whines, and Viktor, panting, slips his hands down to catch the waistband of Yuuri’s pants, pulling them and his underwear down in one fell swoop. 

Both bare, Viktor begins to kiss Yuuri again, wandering from his lips, to his cheeks, his eyes, down to his neck, causing Yuuri to arch his back, their cocks rubbing in the most delicious way. It sparks a deeper need in Yuuri and his hips take on a slow rhythm, both of them panting and gasping with each thrust. Viktor sucks at Yuuri’s neck, matching the slow pace as the pressure in Yuuri’s stomach builds and builds, so close to release.

But he still wants more, _needs_ more. 

“Viktor,” he groans, tugging gently for Viktor to come up. 

Their eyes meet and Yuuri’s chest tightens. Cerulean eyes, silver hair. Viktor. Across time, Viktor found him. Viktor didn’t give up on him. Yuuri wants Viktor, wants him any way possible for as long as possible. 

He leans up and kisses Viktor soundly. Reaching down, he takes them both in his hand, slick from precum and sweat. Gasping at the added friction, he increases the speed as they both inch closer to release. Panting and gasping, the heat pooled in Yuuri’s stomach releases, Viktor’s groan vibrating through his chest as he comes as well.

Viktor is heavy on top of him for a moment, as they come down from their climax, heavy breath intermingling. Yuuri pulls his hand away from between them to wrap his arm around Victor’s waist, pulling him in close once again, tears threatening to fall at the overwhelming feeling filling his heart. Yuuri’s body is heavy and humming in contentment. Viktor shifts, getting up. Yuuri wants to protest but doesn’t have the strength to do so, but Viktor comes back, a warm cloth in hand, and he wipes away the evidence of their lovemaking from Yuuri’s belly. Once he’s done the same to his own, he crawls back into the bed next to Yuuri, pulling up the covers. 

Yuuri snuggles in close, wrapping his arm once again around Viktor’s waist as he settles in next to him, face buried in his chest, trying to send all of the sensations he couldn’t punt into words to the man next to him, hoping he feels them too.

“I’m so glad I found you,” is the last whisper that tickles his ear before sleep takes hold.

* * *

“And there!”

Viktor waves the tool in his hand, handing Yuuri’s TAJ back to him.

“Good as new. Now this time just make sure you don’t encounter any more Incan steps.” Viktor winks teasingly.

“Thank you.” Yuuri smiles, taking his last piece of his people back from Viktor, their fingertips brushing. 

Viktor smiles softly, fingers twitching like they want to take hold of Yuuri, the way they have over the last few days. After Yuuri woke again, Viktor made sure he wasn’t hurt, fed him, made him rest, started working on fixing his TAJ. And with every fleeting touch Viktor gives him, Yuuri wants more. It’s selfish, but Yuuri wants more time. He wants to be with Viktor for as long as Viktor will have him.

Ever since Yuuri woke up, tangled in Viktor’s arms and legs, the growing tension over an unanswered question as Viktor slowly works on fixing Yuuri’s TAJ has Yuuri’s stomach in complete knots.

What’s next?

Yuuri doesn’t want to leave, but his TAJ is fixed. He thumbs at the buttons, regarding the screen that correctly shows where he is.

“Where’s your favorite place?”

Yuuri startles, looking back up at Viktor. 

“You’ll laugh if I tell you.”

“I won’t,” Viktor promises.

“It’s a beach in Japan, outside a town called Hasetsu.”

“Let’s test your TAJ, make sure it works. I’ll follow you there.”

Yuuri nods, typing in the place and time, holding his wrist out so Viktor has the same coordinates.

“See you soon,” Yuuri smiles, but he’s worried that it won’t work again, that he’ll be lost again, that Viktor won’t find him.

“I’ll be there right behind you.”

Yuuri presses the button and the time stream envelopes him. It’s the smoothest ride he’s had in so long, and it sets him on the beach exactly where he’s supposed to be. The wind ruffles his hair, the waves crash against the shore and the gulls cry out in the late afternoon sun, painting everything gold.

“It’s beautiful.”

Yuuri starts.

“You’re here.” He grins in relief.

“I told you I’d be right behind you.” Viktor smiles, but it turns serious as he studies Yuuri’s face.

“Yuuri, there’s something I want to talk to you about.”

Stomach sinking, Yuuri nods, mind running to the worst scenario there could be. Viktor wants to part ways. It makes sense. Yuuri’s sure he’s a burden on the ship, and he had a faulty TAJ that he didn’t throw away. Viktor must consider Yuuri an idiot for doing that. What if Yuuri just isn’t good enough in bed?

“I’d like you to stay on my ship with me.”

Mouth gaping, Yuuri turns fully to Viktor. 

“I know it hasn’t been long, but I can hardly imagine what it’d be like without you anymore. But if you want to go, you — ”

“Yes,” Yuuri interrupts.

Viktor stills, eyes widening like he thought Yuuri wouldn’t agree.

“Yes, yes, yes,” Yuuri chants as he launches himself into Viktor’s arms for a hug, holding on, never wanting to let go.

Viktor laughs, his joy spilling over into Yuuri as he’s lifted up and swung around before he’s crushed in the warmth and strength of Viktor’s arms.

And it’s here, in the arms of the only other Traveler, that Yuuri has finally found what his heart has been aching for all this time. 

A home.


End file.
